


More than a midnight kiss

by DracoIgnis, Dragon_and_Direwolf



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_and_Direwolf/pseuds/Dragon_and_Direwolf
Summary: Jon falls asleep on New Year's Eve before getting his midnight kiss from Daenerys. But perhaps he's about to get something even better - if only they can finish before their guests return.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 57
Kudos: 357





	More than a midnight kiss

Jon awakes when the rockets explode. _Fireworks._ He can see their colours flicker across the dark living room ceiling; bright blue, and green, and red. The window is open. Outside, he can hear people shouting: “Happy New Year!” As the stench of gunpowder fills the air, his eyes close once more. He wants to be awake, and dance, and party, and drink.

But he is tired. His body gives in to sleep. He sinks back onto the sofa. He dreams:

Daenerys is with him. Her lips are warm, and soft, and wet. They trail down his forehead, and nose, and neck. Her hands tug at his shirt. They pull at his jeans. His cock is engulfed in the heat of her mouth. She licks his length, and kisses his balls, and takes him in. Spit slickens him. Precum trickles down her chin. When he thrusts up to meet her sucking, she lets him. His cock traps her tongue. The head pushes to the back of her mouth. When he enters her throat, he groans:

_“Fuck.”_ She is tight. When she gags, it sends shivers down his spine. She bobs her head. She takes him deeper. She slurps and coughs around him. Spittle dampens his skin. Her makeup has started to run. Her eyeshadow is smudged, and her mascara has lumped at the edges of her lashes. When she blinks, it runs down her cheeks. She is a mess. It excites him.

Jon reaches down, under the blanket, opens his hand for his cock. He is throbbing, and hard, and the fantasy is putting him on edge. But instead of grabbing his member, his fingers dig into Daenerys’ soft hair. He blinks his eyes open. He looks down. He meets her gaze.

“What-”

Daenerys takes him in. His cock disappears between her lips until her nose is nuzzled close to his skin. He is wrapped in her wet heat. All he can do is groan with pleasure.

Jon’s hand sinks into her silver locks. He twists her hair around his palm, pulls her head back, then pushes her down onto him. He starts fucking her mouth. A low gurgle echoes in the room. It is dulled beneath the thin fabric of the throw, but it still seems to ring in his ears. The sight of her makes him moan; her pleading eyes glimmering in the light from the fireworks, her cheeks growing pink, her lips stretched to accommodate the thick girth of his cock.

Daenerys coughs. Her eyes roll back slightly. Jon holds her for a second longer before letting her go. When she pulls free of his cock, she gasps for air. But she doesn’t give herself much time - she goes back on him, takes him in, bobs her head as she welcomes him back into her throat. She is quick. She is determined. As both of Jon’s hands grabs her hair, she closes her eyes with a hum of satisfaction.

The fireworks flicker. Jon’s eyes slip back to the light show on the ceiling as he rests his head onto the pillow, his hips working on filling Daenerys’ little mouth. The sofa groans beneath them. His thrusts are making it rock. With her head steadied in his hold, he can take her rapidly, claim her throat, rub himself to her lips, make her cheeks dirty with precum and makeup and spit.

But he won’t last. His balls are tightening. His muscles are aching. He pushes into her one last time, ready to fill her with his cum

\- when she pulls back.

As Daenerys sits up and breathes in, Jon groans in frustration. “I was so close,” he whispers. His words taste of rum and whisky and gin and champagne. When she kisses him, he can smell himself too - sweat, and sex.

“I’m not done,” Daenerys says. She is in a black minidress. When she hikes the skirt up, he sees that she’s not wearing pants. Her pink cunt is shaven and wet. He can smell her - her excitement lingers in her juices. “How tired are you?”

“I’m awake now.”

“Could you lick me?”

Jon nods. Daenerys shuffles up across his body. She settles with her knees on either side of his head. He is trapped between her thick thighs. They are warm when she sinks down around him, her sex hovering her mouth, her labia flushed and slick. When he flickers his tongue across them, she lets go of a quiet gasp. She tastes as she looks; sweet, and stark. She lowers herself onto his lips, and Jon welcomes her with an excited groan.

When Daenerys settles across his face, Jon’s tongue immediately sinks into her. He licks her labia, pushes his lips in between her folds, kisses and sucks his way across her cunt. She is sensitive. His every move makes her moan. She leans over, grabs a hold of the armrest, and slowly starts rocking onto his touch.

Jon is lost in Daenerys’ heat. Her juices fill his mouth and settle across his beard. He can feel her wetness trickle down his cheeks as she starts riding his face. His nose is trapped to her sex. In the dampness, he finds it hard to breathe. But when his fingers sink into her thighs, he doesn’t push her away - he drags her closer, urges her to fuck him harder, to use his lips as she pleases.

Daenerys obliges; she rubs her clit against his nose and drags her cunt down across his warm lips, using his rough tongue to slicken her movements. She is moaning. She is drenched. She is still wearing heels. Jon can feel them dig in at the sides of his chest as she clamps her legs more tightly together. Her fingers are in his hair. Her nails graze his scalp. It hurts when she pulls at his curls. The dull pain makes his cock rock hard.

“Fuck yes,” Daenerys whispers as Jon’s tongue brushes to her clit. She rolls her hips, thrusts herself further onto him, covers his head with her sex and thighs and juices. She locks him in her heat. She claims him for her own pleasure.

Jon is growing red. His hands at her hips start tugging at her flesh. He can’t breathe. He can’t see. A buzzing noise is filling his ears. He needs air. He doesn’t want her to move. But he needs air. He wants her to come to his lips. But he _needs air._

Jon gasps in air. Daenerys is hovering him, her cheeks pink, her eyes dark with desire. She is still holding onto his hair. She wrenches his head back, sends him a cheeky smile, and then lets go. She crawls down his body. She positions herself over his cock. As Jon watches, she grabs a hold of his member, leads him to her sex, and sinks down onto him.

As her tight inners clench in around his throbbing member, Daenerys whispers: “You’re missing the celebrations.” There’s a breathless tease to her voice.

Jon grabs a hold of her hips and gasps: “Is that what this is? A celebration?”

“What else?” Daenerys rocks down onto him, her lips tightening as his cock penetrates her fully. She is warm, and wet, and her muscles squeeze him as her body works to accommodate him. It is tense. It is thrilling. “You fell asleep before I could give you a midnight kiss.”

Jon’s back arches as Daenerys starts riding him. Her cunt has barely gotten used to his size, but she still fucks herself with his cock, moving up and down his hard, slick length. Her hands are on his chest. She pushes him down into the sofa as she picks up her pace. “I don’t remember falling asleep.”

“It was eleven.”

“Where-” Jon gasps. Daenerys has engulfed him fully, and she’s rocking down onto him, forcing a shrill of pleasure to go through him, “-are our guests?”

Daenerys smirks. She reaches up and pulls down the neckline of her dress. Her bra peeks out. It is black, and lacy. “They’re setting off fireworks,” she says. Her voice sounds parched. It’s obvious every word from her lips is a struggle. As she rides him harder, her chest starts jumping, the padding of the bra barely containing her heavy breasts. The edge of her small, pink nipples peek out. The mere sight teases Jon’s senses. “They’ll be back soon.”

“How soon?”

Daenerys pauses. “Don’t hold back,” she only says, and Jon understands: _any minute._

Jon pushes himself up onto his elbows. Then, he rises to a sitting position, his legs stretched, Daenerys’ hips trapping him to the sofa. He wraps his arms around her waist. He leans up. He kisses her; softly at first, then greedily as the seconds pass by, tasting himself and her in the hot air between them, in their spit, on their tongues.

Daenerys moans. Her noises are barely audible over the cheering from outside. More rockets shoot off. The fireworks pop and crack as it explodes across the sky. A backdrop of bright colours light up her frame; green, like her earrings, the jewels glimmering; blue, like her eyeshadow, its colour faded; red, like her tongue, darting out, flickering across his earlobe.

She bites down. She whispers: “Make me come, Jon,” and he grabs a hold of her full buttocks as he drags her down onto him, controls her movements, demands the pace.

Their skin clap. Their wetness dampens Daenerys’ thighs. Jon can feel it as he slips his hand between them, down to her sex, teases her clit with his fingertips. It is small and hard beneath his touch. As he starts circling it, Daenerys’ breathing picks up. She buries her nose in his hair. She wraps her arms more tightly around him. She holds him, pushes into him, drags him closer.

She comes. He can feel her orgasm against his palm and around his cock; a tight shiver, a gurgled moan, her teeth sinking into the soft skin of his shoulder as she tries to hold her cries of pleasure back. But he feels them, in the kisses on his skin and her suckling on his ear.

And he feels it in the way she gives in to him; how her body succumbs to his fucking, how she rocks and moves between his hands as she takes her with more fury, desperate for release. He is on edge. His cock throbs. When he pushes her off of him, he is ready to come.

“Please,” he breathes. The word seems stuck on his lips, but Daenerys knows what he craves.

She sinks between his legs. She opens her mouth to his cock. She takes him in, swallows him, licks her own taste off his length as she engulfs him once more.

Jon barely makes it to the back of her mouth before he comes. He rocks into her, his hands buried in her hair, his body arched and his head thrown back as he groans. He fills her. His cum slips down her throat. Trapped in his strong hold, all she can do is swallow his loads as they fill her small mouth. She coughs. She swallows. She gags. She gets it down. By the time he lets go of her head, her tongue is salty and thick with the scent of him.

Jon is sweaty. He is heaving. He looks up at her, and she looks down at him. She smiles. He smiles back. He says: “That was better than a midnight kiss,” which makes her laugh:

“Don’t get used to it.”

There’s noises in the hallway. They can hear people coming up the stairs. Daenerys quickly wipes her mouth off in the back off her hand as she scoots off Jon’s body. She tugs him away. She pulls the blanket back over him. She presses her finger to her lips and winks.

Jon understands. He turns to face the pillows. He closes his eyes. He pretends to be asleep.

The door swings open. He can hear footsteps as people enter.

“Man,” Robb says, his voice excited, “that was some good fireworks you missed, Dany.”

“Where did you go?” Margaery asks.

“I just needed the loo.”

“Sucks to be you,” Theon exclaims. There’s a hollow sound as he shakes the different beer cans scattered across the table. They are all empty. The sound of the fridge opening in the kitchen soon follows, and his voice from far away calls: “It was awesome!”

Sansa asks: “Where’s Jon?”

“Asleep,” Daenerys replies. A moment of silence follows.

Jon feels certain he’s being watched. He nuzzles his nose closer to the pillow, smacks his lips, and fakes a deep snore.

“He won’t be of any use tonight,” Robb sighs.

“Maybe we should draw on his face,” Arya suggests.

“How about we take this party to the kitchen,” Daenerys offers gently, to the annoyed groan from Arya.

“Good idea - there’s still booze out here!” Theon calls.

Arya relents: “Fine!” and there’s a noisy sound of steps crossing the floor. A door shuts. All sounds seem to go quiet.

Jon remains still. He doesn’t dare to move. Soon, he doesn’t have to - he’s asleep again, his body satisfied, his lips tugged back into a smile. He barely feels as Daenerys returns, her frame hovering his, her lips pressing to his cheeks as she says:

“Happy New Year.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I know, I know... it hasn't even been Halloween yet, and I'm here greeting in 2021! But considering what an awful year it's been so far, can you blame me? Let's raise a glass to the end of 2020 - may we never see a year like this again!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you did enjoy the little heat provided. The drawing by DragonandDirewolf is actually a gif, but AO3 doesn't support the animation, so check it out on her Tumblr!
> 
> Many thanks for reading!


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